It Is Well

You know the song - "It is well, with my soul".  We sang it in church this morning and every time I hear that song I am brought to tears by the events that lead up to it's writing by Horatio G Spafford. 


Horatio Spafford lived with his family - 4 daughters, 1 son, and wife - in Chicago.  His son was only 4 when he died from scarlet fever.  He also lost almost everything he owned in the Great Chicago Fire.  He decided to take his family on a vacation to Europe, just get away from all the terrible things that had happened.  He was about to leave with his remaining children and wife when he was called back to the city for work.  He sent his family ahead on the ship as planned with plans to join them soon.  While the ship was on it's way to Europe with his family, it crashed into another ship and sank.  His children were all lost, only his wife survived.  He left the following day on another ship to join her in Europe.  While he was on the ship, he wrote It Is Well.  


What amazingly horrible circumstances to write such amazing words.  I think about this when I sing the words and am overwhelmed by how much I complain about my circumstances.  I really am so thankful for the way my life has turned out.  Not that things are perfect or even how I thought they would be BUT things are good.  Really good.  And the words in this hymn are such a wonderful reminder that "whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul".

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain:

It is well, with my soul,

It is well, with my soul,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.